


Work Hard, Play Hard

by JulyStorms



Series: Let the World Burn Through You [7]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Taxes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-21 03:56:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3676458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JulyStorms/pseuds/JulyStorms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Filing taxes was always fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Work Hard, Play Hard

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt #12: Things you said when you thought I was asleep. Requested by [harblkun](http://harblkun.tumblr.com) on Tumblr.

Filing taxes was always fun. In fact, for Virion and Sully, it was basically a date. They sat down with fancy coffee and stacks of papers and filed taxes together—a real cozy situation, in Virion's opinion. (Mostly because he was loath to do the taxes by himself.)

The longer it took, the more Sully's eyelids drooped.

"If you fall asleep this will take at least twice as long to finish," he told her.

"I'm not sleeping," she snapped, but her threat was pathetic at best, considering it was laced with sleepiness.

"If you say so," he said.

Smiling, he continued to hunt through the papers on the table to find what he was looking for. He mumbled, half to himself, as he typed numbers into the computer, as he printed forms out, as he started filling them out, messed up in a grand and frankly embarrassing manner, and had to reprint the documents to start all over again.

Sully was sitting slumped forward in her chair when he returned from the printer the second time. Her face was pressed against the table—or rather, against the papers sitting helplessly on the table. He predicted a flat red mark on her cheek in the near future, but quietly sat down and started to fill out the paperwork again.

"Sully, my dear," he tried, nudging her calf gently with his foot when he needed her to peel her face off of the envelopes so that he could get at their information.

She kept sleeping.

He tried again to no avail. Sully was a sound sleeper: she could sleep through anything, probably. At least, she was skilled at pretending she could.

"My beautiful and esteemed wife, I require the tax files that are currently clinging desperately to your amazing cheekbones."

There was still no response.

Well, that left him with only one option.

"Sully," he said, dangerously close to her ear, "if you don't move, I will save over your file, and _then_ what will you do?"

"No!" She sat bolt upright, knocking him in the forehead on her way up.

He clutched his now-aching head (though it was well worth it, in his humble opinion) and grinned at her. Whether the grin was because of the accusatory look on her face or the fact that one of their tax forms was glued to her face thanks to her drooling, he wasn't sure. It was probably both, considering how much he adored everything she did.

"You are _not_ saving over my file!" she continued. As if he would _dare_. "Any file! For anything! Ever!"

"Ah—of course." He reached out, plucked the tax form from Sully's beautiful face, and handed it to her. "Line B14," he said, and lifted his pen to write the amount down.

She stared at the paper. "You woke me up for this?" she asked.

"Well, of course. I need the numbers on that form in particular, which you were snoozing on until just moments ago."

"This is so boring."

He lifted an eyebrow and tried to keep his smile from turning too devious. "Do you have a better idea?"

She matched his expression, but hers looked cockier—like she was about to start trouble. "I sure do."

"Well, you had best tell me what's on Line B14, then," he tried to say with a straight face, "because I am chained to this table until I finish our taxes. Work before play and all that."

Sully rattled off the number, and he dutifully wrote it down. "Isn't there another saying?" she asked after a moment, resting her elbow on the table and ploppting her cheek into her open palm. "Those who work hard play hard?"

"Mm. Something like that, I believe." He glanced up at her and couldn't help the stupid smile that spread across his face as he prodded at her foot with his. "If you want to play hard, then you'd best work hard, first. Hand me the calculator, would you, love?"


End file.
